


Dissimulation

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Case Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-08 03:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14096409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Obi-Wan and Mace go undercover together for a mission.





	Dissimulation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gabriel4Sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel4Sam/gifts).



Normally, Obi-Wan would have taken this mission with Cody, but even without the Separatist presence, clones were banned from setting foot on Sneeve. Anakin would have been his second choice, but Anakin was on the other side of the galaxy, his young Padawan in tow. Two humans had a hope of blending in; two humans and a Togruta had none. Obi-Wan hadn't bothered suggesting anything different.

"You're sure about this?" Obi-Wan asked Mace.

"Our operative on the planet will only speak with us in person. He swears the intel will be worth the trouble." He looked troubled.

"So you're not sure."

"No. I agree it sounds like a trap. We must be wary. The Separatists have held this planet with a light grip. If they can prove two Jedi are on Sneeve, they'll have an excuse to make their occupation far more harsh on the inhabitants."

Obi-Wan had room to worry about the native Sneevels and the many others who'd made this pleasant Mid-Rim world their home. Today however he was more concerned with his own safety. He'd lay down his life in the service of the Republic. Throwing it away for the sake of an obvious trap was another matter. "I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

Mace gave him a look that said he would have rolled his eyes if he were prone to such a childish gesture. "Let us hope your feeling is wrong."

They boarded the shuttle, Obi-Wan accepting Cody's salute as the door closed. The cruiser would remain here in Republic space, close enough to come at call but far enough away neither to be seen nor to come in time if the call were urgent. Obi-Wan didn't object as Mace took the pilot's chair, double-checking their course. They were dressed as traders. Their casual yet hard-wearing clothes boasted blasters rather than lightsabers, which had been left back on the cruiser to protect their identities.

Mace had donned a hat to cover his head, and as they flew towards their destination, Obi-Wan watched him settle into his role: muscles relaxing into more casual positions while warning onlookers not to tussle with him, face shifting from the Jedi's quiet intensity to a more speculative and calculating mien, and even his voice changed timbre from his often stern tone into the deceptive friendliness of someone there to make a quick credit. By the time they docked and disembarked, Obi-Wan felt as though he walked side by side with a stranger who bore only a passing resemblance to Master Windu. Conscious of their need, Obi-Wan made an attempt to mimic the same easy motions, coming up short.

Mace glanced at him as they walked through the crowded streets. "What are you doing?"

"Blending in?"

"Stop."

Obi-Wan scowled at him.

"Better," said Mace. "I have been in the business of acquiring certain items for trade for over thirty years. You're not new to the job, but you're new enough to be hungry for the connections and respect I've earned over the years. "

"Have you worked out my personality for me as well?" Obi-Wan wondered if he sounded somewhat petulant, but he supposed it was better for the role.

"I have notes for your performance thus far. We can discuss them later."

So bickering, they stepped into the establishment where their contact said to meet him. Obi-Wan scanned the room, seeing dozens of faces but none wearing the same style of hat as Mace. "We seem to be early. You can give me those notes."

They took a table near the bar, ordering drinks and paying with the Sneevel money they'd brought. "A cup is an excellent prop," Mace said around the rim of his drink. "In a few minutes, laugh loudly."

Obi-Wan played with his own cup. "And draw attention?"

"Yes. A drunk getting loud and happy with a friend isn't a spy trying to look inconspicuous."

Obi-Wan pretended to gulp his drink, only wetting his lips. He wondered how many undercover missions Master Windu would have been sent on before this war. He'd heard stories of course. Mace was a Grand Master for many reasons. It should be easy for Obi-Wan to fall into the role of someone in awe of and also somewhat jealous of the man. The harder role to play would to not feel those things.

An hour passed, and their contact didn't come. Another hour, and suddenly a native Sneevel slid into a chair at their table. "Nice hat," he said to Mace. He wasn't wearing one.

"It's an old keepsake."

"Broo isn't coming."

"Sorry?" said Obi-Wan.

"Broo sent me. Said you'd be here wearing the twin of his favorite hat. He can't come to see you."

Mace said, "That's a shame. I was hoping we could catch up on old times."

"He's being watched. Metals." The Sneevel shuddered, the hair on his body standing on end. "He doesn't want to risk your life."

"How kind," Obi-Wan said.

Mace leaned in. "You know why we're here. He said he could only tell us his news in person. Are you the person?"

The stranger shook his shaggy head. "Whatever Broo knows, he knows. He only wanted me to warn you. He will be here in two turns."

"You said he was being watched."

"He'll get free of them. Not before then. You want his information, you stay."

Mace said to Obi-Wan, "Local dialect. Two days."

"You and your husband are welcome to stay here." The Sneevel gestured at the bar, then up. "My friend owns this building, and there are rooms to let above. Already paid. My favor to you."

"We should return to our ship," Mace said. "We can return and conduct our business later." They went to stand, and a hairy hand touched Mace's arm.

In a whisper, the Sneevel said, "You go, Broo may not live two turns. He wants off world with you. He told me to tell you, that's the price for information. Meet here, you all go."

If the droids had him, Broo might not make it out alive at all. Obi-Wan glanced at Mace. They couldn't allow their informant to perish on their behalf, but at the same time, this wasn't looking any less like a trap.

"We'll stay," Mace said. "Thank you for your hospitality." The Sneevel gestured to the bar, and soon food was brought out. Obi-Wan ate his portion, remembering to play the part of the somewhat drunk underling, while Mace lounged in his chair in his role, going so far as to laugh and joke with their new friend, Sorsa.

After a while, Sorsa led them up a shallow flight of stairs to the upper rooms. "Here," he said. "Small but clean. Good for humans. You call for food."

They gave him their thanks and went into the room. It was clean, as promised, and small, also as promised. There was a basin with water, a bed that was mostly mattress, and a window which allowed in light from the street outside. The wall held a small communications panel which could contact the front of the house. Nothing else. It was slightly smaller than the available space on the shuttle back at the dock.

"Two turns?" Obi-Wan asked with a sigh.

"We need the information, and we can't leave our informant to be killed."

"I agree. I don't like it. This feels like a trap."

"It would have been easier to convince us to follow Sorsa somewhere and capture us there." Mace sat, sinking into the deep bedding. "Which doesn't mean this isn't a ruse to let our guard down. You can take the first watch." He lay down and closed his eyes.

"I don't recall our working out a watch schedule."

"You are my junior partner in our trading business."

"Sorsa appears to think we're married. Did you notice?"

Mace didn't open his eyes. "A better disguise, and one we should have thought of." This was true. Jedi famously didn't marry. "Therefore, Husband, please take the first watch."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Since you asked nicely, Husband, I shall."

No one bothered them through the night. Obi-Wan woke Mace up when he felt it was time, then sank into the too-soft bed, almost drowning in the thick fluff before he settled into sleep. In the morning, he woke to see Mace settled into a calm meditative pose on the floor, awake and aware by his own connection with the Force. It was a peace Obi-Wan rarely achieved, his own mind always fizzling with worry. A Jedi was a channel to the will of the Force, but Obi-Wan often times felt like a channel to his own anxieties: in his youth, wondering if he would ever be chosen as an apprentice and after he had been, if he would ever live up to his own Master; as he'd grown into his new role, wondering if he was passing along the right lessons to his own headstrong apprentice, or giving him too much freedom, or giving him too little; and now, he wondered at the swift changes in the galaxy, plunged into a war he knew was not ideal. When he could place his worries aside, he could touch the wellspring of the Force and find serenity. It had been some time since he could.

He envied Mace his peace, but jealousy wasn't quite the right term. Obi-Wan felt a particular longing, one he often assumed meant he wished to be like the Grand Master. Mace Windu was not perfect, because no one was perfect, but he was close enough to make Obi-Wan wistfully aware of his own imperfections.

Mace opened his eyes, and for a moment, Obi-Wan was sure he'd read every thought that had just passed through Obi-Wan's head. He said, "We should break our fast and explore the area around this place. We may find another means of helping Broo."

Below, the bar was in the condition of many bars in the early hours: the passed-out bodies of the last patrons barred their way. The cook was already awake, and brought out a small portion each of something that seemed edible enough. Caf was nowhere to be found, and as they explored the streets close to their location, neither were answers about what Broo intended to tell them. There was a small droid army presence, which they circumspectly avoided as they walked. Organics would be fooled by their simple disguises. Droids would process their faces within moments.

"The Separatist presence is noticeably larger than it used to be," Mace said when they were out of earshot of anyone passing by. "That could have been passed along by a simple message. There's something more going on here."

"But what?" The one thing that was certain was that everyone they passed was on edge. Obi-Wan sensed the tension around them. "A storm is brewing."

"And Broo wants off-world before it hits."

"I don't blame him." They headed back to the bar and up into the room. Alone, Obi-Wan asked, "Is there anything we can do for these people? I hate the thought of leaving them under this pall. You can feel it, can't you?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But we can't show ourselves, or it will be worse for them unless the Republic intends to formally take this planet back."

"Which will be impossible if they forbid clones from coming here."

"It's a puzzle," Mace said. "Perhaps the solution will arrive with Broo, if he finds us."

Broo didn't come that day, but Sorsa joined them in the bar when evening came while they sat and watched the crowd. "Next turn. Broo will come."

Obi-Wan said, "If you tell us where he's being held, we may be able to free him quietly."

Sorsa shook his head. "No. Too dangerous. Be patient."

Patience was a virtue every Jedi knew, but sharing a look with Mace, Obi-Wan knew theirs was at an end. With a mental push, he said to Sorsa, "You should tell us where Broo is."

Sorsa blinked and shook his head harder. "No tricks. Broo will come." He stood and left them. Mace remained in his trader's lounging posture, taking what looked to anyone else like a long drink from his cup before he stood, placing his hat on the table.

"Stay here, Husband," he said when Obi-Wan made to join him. "There's a chance Broo will come to see us here."

"Where are you going?"

"To see a man about a bantha." He walked away with the uncomfortable swagger of a man with a full bladder in search of the nearest 'fresher, or barring that, the dimly-lit wall of a nearby alley. No one would give him so much as a glance as he followed Sorsa at a careful distance.

Annoyed, Obi-Wan remained at his table. Mace was right. There was a chance their contact would come here, which meant one of them should stay. Also, two people trying to follow the Sneevel back to wherever he lived would be more obvious than one person alone. Obi-Wan would have preferred to play the spy rather than the patient one who stayed put. He remained at his post as the night wore on. Plenty of Sneevels came and went, none of them wearing the article of clothing that would designate their contact, and none approaching him. He affected to be a bit drunk, joining another table for a few games of chance and losing to them amiably.

"Where's your man?" one asked, noticing Mace's absence.

"Can't hold his drink, I'm afraid. He's gone upstairs to sleep off his headache." This earned him some laughter, and a few more questions, which Obi-Wan invented answers for with light ease. They'd been travelling together for several years, married for five, no children but two occasional crew members who came and went and who felt at times like their son and daughter. Spice traders, mostly, thanks for asking, and their new friend Sorsa had some business prospects he wasn't ready to discuss, but he'd be happy to buy the next round.

"Last call," the landlord said in the wee hours of the morning. Mace hadn't returned.

"Thanks," Obi-Wan said, and returned to their room alone. He could risk contacting Mace by commlink if he was sure it wouldn't blow whatever plan they were concocting. He'd never mastered the talent some Jedi had of connecting with another telepathically. Be patient, Sorsa had told them.

He settled down to meditate, sending out his senses in every direction until he felt a small piece of every living thing in the surrounding city. Obi-Wan waited until the last of the noises from the bar settled, the landlord's cleaning all finished and the last of the passed-out drunks shoved into the pile where they'd sleep it off. Then he donned his cloak and went out.

Mace had followed Sorsa. Obi-Wan had no one to follow and no idea where to start looking. He relied on the Force, letting the tug and flow of power guide him towards the other Jedi lost somewhere in this tangle of streets. Mace wasn't far, he sensed. He would find his location, and decide what to do then.

His steps led him to one of a dozen narrow buildings lining either side of a street less than a click away from the bar. Mace was on the top floor of this one, seven stories up. Hardly a height back on Coruscant, but here, the buildings were among the tallest in the city. Obi-Wan entered the next building over and found a set of the same shallow stairs, suited to the gait of native Sneevels and uncomfortable on the knees of humans. He ascended to the roof, keeping his extra senses attuned to Mace's location, and if he could find them, his emotions. They had yet to dismiss this as a trap, and it would hardly do for Obi-Wan to walk into the jaws himself.

A quick jump took him to the next rooftop. Somewhere below him, he knew there was a Jedi Grand Master, and this close, he could tell said Grand Master was annoyed. One fear lessened. If Mace was irritated, he wasn't in danger although Obi-Wan couldn't say the same for whoever he was with.

His lightsaber would be comforting right about now.

Obi-Wan made his way down the stairs, his footsteps as silent as a ghost's. From outside the closed door, no sound could be heard. From behind him, he heard thick steps coming his way. There was no place to hide, and little reason to try. He greeted the two Sneevels who rounded the corner with an absent, slightly tipsy smile.

"Hello there! I'm looking for Sorsa's apartment. Do you know him?" He was greeted with two blasters. His hands went up. "My goodness."

"Inside," said the first Sneevel.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to be escorted in to the room. Mace's head turned as he came in. He was on the floor, hands bound behind himself, eyes darting and breath quickened as if in fear. Obi-Wan was shoved to his knees beside him.

"Toban, I thought you were staying back at the hotel."

"I missed you." He offered Mace a daft smile, and without giving a glance away, noted his friend had already loosened his bindings and was holding them in place.

"You shouldn't have come."

Obi-Wan took in their captors. The two Sneevels who'd brought him in were joined by two more: Sorsa and someone Obi-Wan could only presume to be the missing Broo. Both were held at blaster point by armed humans, and a third human appeared to be interrogating them and Mace. "I realize that now."

"Who else knows you're here?" asked the human in charge.

Mace said, "My partner and I don't have any other crew. Everyone who knows our names on this planet is in this room. We're not a threat to your operation. Broo said he had cargo for us to move off-world. We don't want any part of encroaching on your territory. Please let us go, and we swear not to tell anyone we saw you. You can keep whatever profit you want from his cargo."

"Broo has no cargo," the man scoffed. The human holding a blaster at Broo kicked him. "He's trying to get out of here before the Separatists bring their capital ships and set up shop."

"Separatists?" Obi-Wan asked with feigned confusion. "I thought they already ran this world?"

"Sneeve is one of the free worlds of the Confederacy. It's also strategically valuable for access between Kashyyyk and Kessel."

"Sorry, I don't follow," Obi-Wan said, despite following very well. The Separatists intended to set up a full base here and use it to launch attacks against nearby worlds. Broo must have overheard the plans somehow and wanted to get out while he could.

"I'm sure." The human smirked. He set the mouth of his blaster against Obi-Wan's temple and said to Mace, "Tell me why you're really here, or I blow your husband's head off while you watch."

Obi-Wan glanced at Mace, who gazed back calmly. His body language up to now had been worried, a mix of the smuggler's bravado and a lot of fear. With the interrogation complete, he no longer needed to pretend. Obi-Wan didn't know if the men in the room with them could see the change as well as he did, as the role fell away to reveal the roiling intensity of a Jedi Grand Master in its wake, watching their captors with detached pity with the last of his mental calculations finishing in his mind. Obi-Wan had always been a bit in awe of Master Windu, impressed by his abilities, his knowledge, and more than a little fascinated by his physical prowess.

His own eyes slid back to look at the man holding the blaster, and he felt that same distant empathy. He had made bad choices, and he was willing to hurt or kill others for the pay he would get from the Separatists. Those were no reasons to make his death messier or more painful than necessary. Again Obi-Wan regretted the lack of his lightsaber. It was an elegant weapon, and a hot, fast death.

Mace leapt, easily pushing his body over the head of their captor without brushing the ceiling of the room, then spun and with one hand at an angle, he gave a firm chop to the man's neck. Obi-Wan had already rolled past him and towards the two humans holding the Sneevels hostage. The men turned to fire on him, the first shooting one of the henchman Sneevels instead. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, snatching the blaster from other's hand and stunning him the moment it was in his own grasp. Mace meanwhile had taken the blaster from the fallen first man and stunned the remaining Sneevel. The third human threw his hands into the air in surrender.

The entire skirmish took less than ten seconds.

Mace walked over to Broo and offered him a hand. "Is that why you contacted us?"

"Yes."

Obi-Wan looked at their one conscious captive. "Is there anything you feel like volunteering?"

"You're Jedi," he said, still in shock.

"What gives you that idea?" Obi-Wan said, securing his hands with the binders Mace had removed.

Mace came up beside Obi-Wan, and to Obi-Wan's genuine astonishment, he tugged him close and kissed him hard. Ah. They were maintaining their disguise. He smiled under Mace's mouth, and moved closer to him, tilting in for a deeper touch. Mace rewarded him with a strong hand on his shoulder, and a sudden, hungry, _dirty_ kiss that spoke of banked passions Obi-Wan had hardly dreamed of. This close, he could feel the emotion underlying the rest and discovered not all of it was a lie.

"I was worried about you," Mace said, breath panting slightly. Obi-Wan couldn't tell how much of the worry was feigned for their prisoner's benefit, and how much he meant. "Let's just go."

Sorsa snorted. "Jedi? Right." He took Broo's hand. "We should be gone."

They left the stunned and dead bodies, and the confused but firmly bound human, locking the door of the apartment behind them. "Do you need anything?" Obi-Wan asked Sorsa. "Is there anyone else coming?" His mouth still tingled. It had been a very long time since he'd kissed anyone.

"No," he said, and Broo nodded.

They hurried to the dock, where their shuttle remained unharmed. Within a few minutes, they'd lifted off.

"Commander Cody," Obi-Wan said over the commlink. "Please meet us at the coordinates we gave you." He turned to Mace. "You know sending in troops will be messy."

"I know, but we can't allow them to build a base here. They will use the Sneevels as slave labor, and attack world after world."

Sorsa shivered. Broo wrapped a long arm around his shoulders. "You'll help?"

"We'll help," Mace said, and it was a promise.

Back aboard the command ship, Obi-Wan exchanged his trader's gear for his armor, and felt the better for it. That wasn't him, some drifting smuggler with a fast ship and a handsome husband. This was his life, the life he'd been raised to, the life he was destined to lead.

He didn't know why he left his quarters. He didn't ask himself why he crossed the corridor to the cabin where Master Windu was resting. He might be meditating. He might be in private consultation with the other members of the Council. He might wish to put this experience behind them.

Obi-Wan touched the door pad and waited.

The door opened. Mace sat in the middle of the small cabin, body in quiet restful meditation, his eyes not even opening as Obi-Wan hesitated at the doorway. "I've disturbed you," he said. "My apologies."

"No apology needed. Some disturbances are welcome."

He opened his eyes and looked at Obi-Wan, and all his roles were off his face now. He wasn't pretending to be some two-cred smuggler. He wasn't wearing the gravitas of a Grand Master. He wasn't a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. For the first time, maybe ever, Obi-Wan saw him as just another human. His open expression offered no promises and told no lies. Attachment was forbidden, yet caring and desire were only human. There could be a place set aside, hidden in the secret alcove between duty and hope, a place for the two of them.

Obi-Wan closed the door behind him as he stepped inside.


End file.
